Fracture
by InkFalls
Summary: Set during DH. Hermione witnesses the death of Harry at the hands of the formidable Lord Voldemort. However, she doesn't know that Harry could come back to life, so when an accident sends her back in time she sets out on a mission of her very own with three goals in mind. Find Tom Riddle. Fix the future. Stop at no cost. Fire and chaos ensue.
1. Chapter 1

_(I'm really sorry for the monstrous size of the notes but they'll clear up some stuff)_

_**Notes about Fracture: **__Hopefully, this fic will become a multi-chaptered story and not just a one-shot :P It was inspired by Avalon Kore's Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger story called Corrupted By Light and a Tom Riddle/Voldemort/Hermione video by Monica Citrina called Last to Know. I want to thank both Avalon and Monica for being absolutely awesome and inspirational (seriously go read and watch their stuff, they're blooming brilliant). I'm making no promises about regular updates because I don't want to tempt fate or anything buuuuuuut on special occasions I may just post three chapters at once. Fracture is set in the DH time period to start off with but it also uses the concept of time travel so the time periods will change. I know there are loads and loads of fics out there using time travel for Tomione but I'm hoping the ideas I've used in this fic will keep it interesting and believable for you. The POV may change sometimes but the majority of it will be written in the point of view of Hermione and Tom (mainly Hermione). _

_**A note on Hermione:**__ Throughout Fracture you may notice characteristics in Hermione that you wouldn't have particularly thought she would have; it's because I want to show how Hermione's personality evolves when she's subjected to different situations and experiences. Although I'm really hoping that I still manage to keep her in character, I would absolutely love feedback on what you think about her; especially if you think I've stepped over the line and into the world of OOC._

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**Fracture**

Bitter coldness tore into Hermione Grangers skin and seeped into her bones. Sat on top of the remains of the astronomy tower's roof, she watched as the raging wind tore pieces of the ancient tiles away and wondered if it was also ripping her apart piece by piece too, scattering her in the wind along with the tiles. She felt like it was. In fact, she felt so far removed from the reality happening below her inside the castle that –just for a moment- she dared to believe that none of it was real at all.

But then the scene that she'd witnessed between Voldemort and Harry would play across her mind again; bringing unbidden tears to sting at her eyes and a laden feeling that would settle inside her chest, reminding her that with just two short and simple words, Voldemort had taken away all that she loved and hoped for. Harry was dead. Ron was missing. Half of the schools population were either dead or being tortured. Hermione's head dropped to rest on her knees. She didn't even remember how or why she'd gotten onto the roof of the astronomy tower anyway.

Cold droplets of rain falling onto the back of her neck eventually brought Hermione out of the dark state of mind that she'd tumbled into. When she raised her face to look at the sky so she could use the sun to attempt to figure out what time it was, she was given a cold shock. The clouds were still shaped like the dark mark above the castle and the empty pits of eyes in the skull seemed to be leering straight down at her. A shudder of revulsion ran through her body, causing something to poke painfully into her side with the sudden movement.

Hermione reached a hand into the pocket of her robes to find out what had jabbed her side and pulled out her time turner and the elder wand; not quite knowing how either of them had gotten there. A high-pitched, lilting laugh echoed in Hermione's ears, accompanied by a piercing scream that made her flinch in shock and frayed her nerves.

She glared down in disgust at the wand she now rolled between her thumb and forefinger. It was disturbing, she realised, that she was now in possession of the wand that had killed Harry and tortured others. Especially seen as she couldn't even remember gaining its possession. Then again, everything that happened after she witnessed the startling flash of green light that ended Harry's life was murky and sludgy in Hermione's memory; she couldn't help but shy away from trying to remember it all.

A darkly gleeful feeling reared its ugly head; perhaps she'd gained the wand by killing Voldemort after he'd killed Harry. The realisation that taking joy in killing Voldemort would make her just as bad as the Dark Lord himself quickly swept away any feeling of joy that the thought had given her. She shuddered again, unsure whether it was because she was horrified at the thought of being like the Dark Lord or because she secretly wished for his death so much that it scared her.

Either way, she wasn't going to allow the wand to stay intact and working. All it did was leave a trail of death and destruction behind it. She would have to destroy it. The side of Hermione that loved all things academic screamed inside her at the prospect of destroying such a historical and legendary object but recent events and her conscience just wouldn't let her keep it intact. Not when someone else could abuse the power it held.

Hermione turned her face away and closed her eyes as she held the wand up with her hand extended in front of her. Almost reluctantly, she applied enough force to break the wand in two, flinching slightly at the snapping sound it made. She let out a long, drawn breath that she hadn't realised she'd been holding and peeked at the wand. Her eyes widened in panic.

Long streams of golden flames were pouring out of the break in the two pieces of the elder wand. The strands began to circle around her, becoming larger and brighter until the golden flames began to eclipse any glimpse of her surroundings. It gained momentum. Swirling faster and faster until it was moving so quickly that Hermione could no longer keep track of its movements.

Her mind raced to figure out what the golden fire was and how she could get out of the middle of it. There was a solution, she reassured herself, there _had_ to be a solution. All she had to do was just _think. _

The flames were getting faster, for them to do that they had to at least be tangible enough for forces to act on them. Her eyes lit up with intensity as she analysed the situation before her. Whatever _it _was, it had come out of the elder wand when she'd broken it so it was more than likely very powerful and old. She could also feel her own magic reacting to it, rising up inside her wildly as if it wanted to break free from her and merge with the flames.

Realisation dawned and Hermione began to truly panic. The urge to flee encased her mind. _Stupid! _She thought angrily at herself, mentally berating her own idiotic actions of breaking the wand without thinking about the consequences first.

Magic was sort of like energy -to the extent of her knowledge- it couldn't be created or destroyed, only transformed with direction. So, if you broke a wand that contained as much magic as the elder wand did, then all that magic was bound to be released and it would have nowhere else to go except _out_. It also wasn't being transformed into something else because Hermione hadn't used any spell or charm or _anything _to give it direction to transform into something. Hermione's breathing accelerated beyond control, some distant part of her wondered if she was hyperventilating.

The golden flames were magic then. Very old and very powerful magic. In its purest form.

She was pretty sure she should have passed out by now. Instead, her flee-all-of-the-danger instinct made her reach out to the swirling wall of magic to see if she could jump through it. As soon as her hand made contact with it electricity shot through her whole body. She tore away from the wall violently and her fists clenched in the pain, further breaking the remains of the elder wand and crushing the time turner that was still held in her other hand.

The wall of magic suddenly collapsed, rushing towards Hermione and into her body. She was thrown backwards as it hit her, her mouth opening to take in a gasp of air as she was propelled off the roof of the astronomy tower. The last thing she saw was the dark mark encompassing the sky as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

-.-.-.-.-

Hermione awoke with a startled gasp, shooting up into a sitting position so quickly that it made her dizzy and almost threw her off the edge of a fully intact astronomy tower roof. Staring at the castle around her, she tried to comprehend how Hogwarts had gone from mostly-destroyed to fully built and intact. The dull stone it was made from even looked cleaner. Every tower stretched as high into the sky as they had before the final battle. Even the Hogwarts grounds no longer looked scorched and battle-torn anymore. A small frown of confusion created a grove between her eyebrows; she was pretty sure that the Womping willow had disappeared too.

As Hermione reflected on past events, the corners of her mouth turned downwards; casting her face with an uncharacteristic sad expression. The final battle had felt too real for it to all have just been a terrifying nightmare and the whole elder-wand-magic-thing had definitely been real; she held the proof of it in her trembling hands. And yet, it all seemed... Well, none of it seemed like it was real. As much as she hated to admit it, Hermione just didn't fully understand what had happened. It annoyed her. Greatly.

She didn't even have anyone to bounce theories and ideas off of which brought tears to her eyes again as she remembered the dead. She dropped the remains of the crushed elder wand and time turner to dig her nails into the palms of her hands in order to stop the tears from falling. The broken piece bounced on the roof tiles twice before falling over the edge of the tower. Hermione didn't dare glance down after them; it was so far down she couldn't even hear them land.

That is, she couldn't hear them land on any_thing. _She did, however, hear the disgruntled yelp of "HEY!" which probably meant they landed on some_one. _

Hermione lay down on her stomach and popped her head over the edge of the roof, gripping so tightly to the tiles that her knuckles turned white. The person below her looked super small; she couldn't see the details of his appearance except that he had long, blond hair and looked like he was wearing Hogwarts student robes. Despite the hair, Hermione was still pretty sure the student was male. He was also looking up at her, more than likely with an expression of accusation for dropping things on him or with one of shock as he observed the bushy-haired girl all the way at the top of the astronomy tower.

A queasy sensation began to settle in her stomach as she looked over the roof edge but she continued to stare determinedly down at the student. With what Hermione considered as a burst of courage, she let go of the roof with one of her hands (whilst tightening the grip that she had with the other hand) and took her own wand out of an inside pocket in her robes. Casting a Sonorus spell, she addressed the student in a voice that she hoped he would interpret as no-nonsense instead of the fearful tones that she heard in it.

"Who are you?" She could have sworn that he flicked his hair arrogantly over his shoulder in response. Nevertheless, he followed her example and cast a Sonorus spell to reply.

"I am Abraxas Malfoy. Who are you and why, in the name of Salazar Slytherin, are you on the roof of the astronomy tower?"

_**Abraxas**_ _Malfoy!? No, that isn't possible. That's not possible at all! _Hermione shot back into a sitting position asthe gears in her mind started to spin rapidly. She did have the time turner on her before but she hadn't used it to- _oh. _

The elder magic. She'd crushed the time turner as the elder magic was beginning to flood her body. The time turner must have given the magic a direction to transform in. Consequently she had been transported back in time beyond what the time turner could do by itself. That would also explain the better-than-normal condition of the castle. But still... back in _time_? It was absurd. Insane, even. Maybe that was it! She'd cracked and finally gone insane. Hermione popped her head back over the roof's edge.

"Prove that you really are Abraxas Malfoy." She demanded.

"I don't have to prove anything to you-"a note of arrogance seeped into his voice "-you dropped Merlin-knows-what on my head for no apparent reason. Now, tell me who you are or I'm leaving."

Hermione absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip. If Malfoy really was who he said he was then she shouldn't even be talking to him. This whole thing could also be some elaborate Death Eater trick, although Hermione saw no reason at all for why they would make the trick like this.

On the other hand, she didn't really have her own way to get down from the tower without a broom which –inconveniently- she didn't have. She couldn't think of any spells that would get her down from this much of a height without some nasty consequences and if the castle really was a Hogwarts of the past then there was no doubt in her mind that she would end up splinched if she tried to apparate. Her safest bet would be to see if Malfoy had a broom she could borrow or if he'd go and get a teacher for her. Besides, what harm could it do? He certainly sounded like a Malfoy, practically dripping with arrogance and an overly abundant ego.

"I'm Hermione Gr- Gritt." She almost hit her head against the roof tiles as punishment for nearly giving away her real name and then coming up with an unbelievable false name. _Idiot_ she thought resentfully.

"I'm sort of stuck up here, is there a way that you could let me borrow your broom to get down please? If you don't want to because you think this is some sort of prank or something then I fully understand but could you at least go and get some help instead? I'd be awfully grateful, it's terrible up here."

_Ha!-_ Her mind yelled triumphantly -_see if he can deny that plea for help_. She had purposefully emphasised the damsel-in-distress quality and knocked up the politeness so he couldn't find an excuse to leave her on the roof and still appear like the gentleman that most Malfoys liked to use as a disguise to hide the more uncivilised sides to them. The manipulation that Hermione had included in it made her feel a little bit better about her practically begging a Malfoy to help her. Assuming he _is _a Malfoy anyway.

He disappeared after that. Hermione assumed that he'd gone to get help, seen as a broom wasn't levitated up to her straight away. Either that or he'd just left. Typical Malfoy tactic.

While she was left on her own she began to try and sort through some things. Her first priority was to figure out what in Merlin's name was going on; depending on the outcome of that, she could then concoct some kind of plan. If she really had gone back in time then she would need to set up a cover story. Her breath caught in her throat as she realised that Harry and Ron wouldn't be dead in this time frame. Granted, they might not actually be _alive _yet either but there was still hope.

It wasn't until her apparent rescuer jumped off his broom gracefully and landed on the top of the roof that another thought struck Hermione; knocking the breath out of her and leaving her feeling empty. The fact that Abraxas Malfoy was a student at Hogwarts meant that she was in the time period where Tom Riddle was alive and kicking.

Hermione shot up to a stand and paced as much as being stuck on a roof allowed her to. If Voldemort was alive as Tom Riddle in this time period then she could kill him now and stop him from kil- no, no she couldn't. That would alter the time line which was something that McGonagall would definitely disapprove of. Of course McGonagall wasn't actually _here _in this time period... or was she? Hermione didn't know how old her transfiguration professor was in her own time period and-

Someone clearing their throat pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. It was probably a good thing because she was becoming a teeny tiny bit side-tracked. Right, first priority: get the hell off of the stupid roof.

Hermione twirled around to face the person that had cleared their throat for her attention. She opened her mouth with an apology ready to spring out but stopped dead when she took in the sight in front of her. Her face immediately paled in shock.

Tom Riddle, _Tom Riddle _was stood in front of her.

An undeniable urge to push him over the edge of the roof hooked its claws into her.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to everyone who has put Fracture in their favourites or are following it (you're all awesome and boost my writers ego until it hardly fits through the door :P) and a special thank you goes to Avalon Kore for being the first ever reviewer on Fracture (and what a brilliant review it was too!). Just to let ya'll know, I will probably respond to reviews or questions and stuff either at the bottom of each chapter or by PM if it's something like a complex question. Right, on with the story._

_Enjoy._

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**Chapter 2**

Somehow, through a feat of steel will power and gritted teeth, Hermione managed to shake off the urge to murder Riddle. Instantly averting her gaze from his own eyes, she noticed the broom that was by the side of the young Dark Lord. She stared at it bemusedly.

"so-" Hermione spoke weakly "-you are my rescuer then?"

He gave her a dazzling grin, one that felt vaguely sinister to her.

"I'm Tom -"he offered her a hand to shake but she stuck her hands into the frayed pockets of her robes instead, hiding the tight grip that she had on her wand. He didn't let the surprise register on his face "-Abraxas told me that there was a student stuck up here because I'm head boy. I came to see if I could help you get down, although from your robes I can tell that you aren't a student. They're very nice by the way, your robes I mean."

Hermione stared at him mutely. A warm breeze of wind ruffled his perfectly-styled hair and made his robes blow out behind him. Harry had described Tom Riddle perfectly, right down to the pale skin and expression of calculation hidden in those dark eyes. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets; either to mirror her posture in order to make her feel more at ease during their conversation (which vaguely infuriated Hermione because it was a basic manipulation tactic) or to hide that he was also holding his wand.

It was probably both.

"Right. You're head boy. You came to give me a broom ride back down to the ground and you know I'm not a student." A funny look swept across Hermione's face. _I don't feel right. _She thought, _sort of detached and...odd. _

Riddle frowned slightly as he spoke "Yes. You don't need to worry; you will be perfectly safe with me on the broom."

She slapped a hand over her mouth in order to contain her giggles. Perfectly safe? _Safe!? _Riddle took a step forwards and took a hand out of his pocket to reach out to her. She flinched away and his frown grew deeper.

"I think you're in shock, Miss. Come with me and I'll take you to the infirmary so-"

It was all too much too soon. Everything that had happened was just _too much._

She promptly fainted.

-.-.-.-.-

The beautiful sight of a complete stranger looming over her menacingly greeted Hermione when she finally opened her eyes. She almost screamed but as soon as her mouth opened, he shoved a vile tasting potion down her throat. She gagged and coughed as it choked her and winced at the feeling of it travelling down to her stomach. It was probably incinerating her stomach lining.

Hermione clamped her mouth shut and glared at the stranger defiantly. He put the potion bottle back in his pocket and walked away. She stuck her tongue out at his retreating broad back.

A deep and oddly melodious laugh piped up from her left. Hermione's head automatically turned towards the source of the sound. When her gaze landed on a weirdly amused-looking Riddle her body tensed up, ready to run or fight. She tried to pat the pocket of her robes for her wand but found there was nothing there, so she braced herself to jump out of the bed she was laid in at an instants notice whilst taking the time to glare at him with pent-up hatred instead.

Amusement still danced in his eyes.

Tom shifted in his chair to lean towards the girl with his hands clasped in front of him and his forearms resting on his legs. A voluntary smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced down at her with mock disapproval.

"Now, now Miss Gritt, I would have thought that you would know that wands are banned in infirmaries unless you are a healer."

_The infirmary? _Hermione took a quick glance around and was struck with a feeling of familiarity and comfort as she recognised the Hogwarts infirmary. She would have spent all day just staring at the walls which had been destroyed in her time period but Riddle distracted her. Even as she turned her head to look back at him, he was pulling the twelve inch and three quarter walnut wand out of his pocket and twirled it between his fingers.

"You stole my wand." She stated disbelievingly, noting the irony that the Dark Lord held a wand that would be possessed by one of his future followers.

"Give it back." There was no enthusiasm behind the command. She wasn't really bothered if he gave back that particularly damned wand. Granted, it would leave her without a wand due to her own still being passed around some Snatcher social circle, but the wand that had formerly belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange repulsed her beyond the line of managing to care for it.

Riddles smirk spread into a grin. A very nasty grin, in Hermione's opinion. "Don't you think that you should be a bit nicer to someone who just rescued you from dying? You could have at least said please"

Hermione gaped at him. _Rescued me from-? _

"Wait, _what? _No-never mind that, a better question would be _why_?" The young Dark Lord had no reason to save her from anything.

As she watched him carefully, she saw a blank expression form on his face. Even his body language stopped giving any hints away as to what was going through his mind. He sat completely still. It was quite unnerving.

"What a peculiar question to ask." He stated, never taking his gaze away from Hermione. She felt like she was being examined under a microscope.

"You fainted while we were on the roof and fell over the edge before I could catch you-"his voice was completely monotone; it was as if his mind were thinking of something completely separate whilst he spoke automatically "-I had to dive onto my broom and fly down to catch you before you hit the ground. It was all quite dramatic; any other decent person would have done the same. There was also quite a large crowd of students below the tower who saw it all, if you would like to verify the facts."

_Great- _Hermione thought snidely _–I owe a Voldemort-to-be a life debt._ She was saved from commenting on Riddles daring rescue by the return of the stranger that had shoved a potion down her throat.

The walnut wand had vanished from Riddles hands but she noticed that the stranger had a wand of his very own. He gestured for her to lift her right arm into the air; she complied from the fear that if she didn't then he'd just grab her arm and force it up anyway. He used his wand silently to vanish some bandages that she hadn't known were there and proceeded to dab a luminous orange salve onto a wound on her arm that she also hadn't known was there. When he finished his task he walked away again, closing the cotton curtains around Hermione's bed (to her dismay) and probably going off to look after some other injured student.

Hermione turned back to Riddle, slightly afraid that he had done something nefarious during the couple of seconds that she'd taken her eyes off him. "You mentioned nothing about me becoming injured after I fainted."

Riddle raised a quizzical dark eyebrow; somehow he even managed to do it elegantly. "Your injuries aren't from when you fainted and fell. They're quite a few hours old. They also seem to be the result of some very nasty dark magic."

For a moment, Hermione was absolutely stunned that she'd manage to forget about her injuries from the final battle. It now seemed impossible to ignore the various degrees of pain that spotted her body as he reminded her of them; the pristine bed cover that lay over her was bundled and creased as she clenched her fists in reaction. She sought out a topic to discuss in order to distract herself from it.

"So the healer tells you all about my injuries but doesn't speak at all to me while he's shoving potions down my throat and sticking salves on them. That hardly seems fair."

"Life isn't fair. Besides, the healer didn't tell me anything about your injuries." Riddle replied "My knowledge about them is purely from what I've been able to deduce myself. The healer can't speak anyway."

"_Can't _speak?" Hermione enquired sharply.

The future Dark Lord leaned back in his chair. "Yes, he doesn't have a tongue."

Once again- in the space of about ten minutes- Hermione Jean Granger gaped in shock at Tom Marvolo Riddle. "_He doesn't have a tongue_!?"

Annoyance flashed in Riddles eyes "I just said that, did I not?"

"You could have said it in a politer way. _Why_ doesn't he have a tongue?"

"It got cut out and they couldn't grow it back. Presumably that's his reasoning for becoming a healer."

Hermione couldn't help it, she stared at Riddle suspiciously. He let out an exasperated sigh and –for some reason not exactly clear to Hermione- handed the walnut wand back to her.

"I was _not_ the one who cut out his tongue. Don't give me that look; I know that's what you were thinking. For some reason that continuously evades me, you seem to blame me for all the bad things that have happened." It irked him, to be honest. He was playing the charming student but she wasn't falling for it and she didn't show the degree of respect that he expected from her after he told her about the rescue.

_I know that's what you were thinking. _The words echoed in her mind. Hermione's face drained of colour. She speedily averted her eyes to stare at the wooden rafters supporting the ceiling. She needed to be more cautious. Although she hadn't felt another presence trying to brush against her mind she still needed to exercise caution while she was around him. He'd already picked up on everything that she'd accidentally given away and it looked like he'd just used his own deduction skills to do that. Hermione knew that Voldemort was a Legilimens which made her wonder at what point in time Riddle had seen it necessary to learn Legilimency.

Maybe he already was a Legilimens.

Memories of the final battle began to flood back to her. It was like her own mind was betraying her by showing all the wrong information after realising that a possible Legilimens was in the room.

_No, _she thought _this can't happen now. Not in front of _him.

_"_Are you in pain?" Tom asked curiously as he observed the girls fists clenching and unclenching over the top of the infirmary bed covers.

"I'm fine. Go and get the headmaster." She spoke through her gritted teeth.

A cold anger slipped into his eyes at her command and dismissal, Hermione didn't see it as she closed her eyes and covered them with her hands in order to block out the memories.

"Very well." He spoke evenly as he stood up and strode through a parting in the curtains around her bed. He was halfway across the infirmary when Hermione called out to him.

"Riddle!" she shouted, Tom paused momentarily and looked enquiringly over his shoulder at where the curtains enclosed the bushy-haired witches bed. "Make sure to send professor Dumbledore to me before you get the headmaster!"

He didn't reply, instead choosing to be silent as he strode over to the infirmary doors.

She made absolutely no sense to him at all.

-.-.-.-.-

Hermione curled up into a ball and clenched her jaw as memory after horrible memory attacked her.

_Narrowly dodging Confringo curses while running through the Forbidden forest; desperately searching for Harry and trying to ignore the shards of wood that slashed into her skin as the Confringo curses hit the looming trees around her. A burst of sickly green light and Harry's eyes turning a murky, glassy green as the life seeped out of him. The scorching pain when Hermione dived in front of Ginny to take the Crucio curse that Bellatrix Lestrange had aimed at her, somehow managing to tell her to run while she could. _

Hermione pressed her hands to her face harder and bit her lip until blood was drawn. "S-stop." She gasped out.

_A house elf stretching a hand out to her, blood splattering it's skin as Hermione took hold of the hand and was apparated to what looked like an empty corridor until a masked Death Eater and Fenrir Greyback turned the corner and saw them. The wide eyes of the house elf staring at her, an empty void where there should have been awareness as the Death Eater's Diffindo charm severed it in half. A raw scream of rage tearing out of her throat as she snapped, throwing curse after curse at the followers of Lord Voldemort. Desperation and hopelessness clawing inside her when she tried to climb the astronomy tower in a bid to stop Neville from jumping off the top of the roof while he was under an Imperious. _

-.-.-.-.-

As soon as Albus Dumbledore had stepped through the green fire in his fireplace and into his office, he knew that something was extremely wrong. His skills as a Legilimens meant that he would occasionally pick up on a broadcasted thought or image subconsciously with no effort on his part; it was very rare but it could happen. However, never before had his mind been bombarded with such strong images and feelings until that instant. It knocked the breath out of him.

When Albus opened his wooden office door and walked into the corridor to find out what was happening, the assault grew ten times stronger. It felt like his mind was being needled with a silver spike. He had to stop it. If not for his sake, then at least for the sake of the person undergoing the mental battle.

He aimed his destination at the first floor, although he wasn't precisely sure of why it was that particular floor he was going to. He didn't question it. With every inch that he came closer to the source of the mental war, it grew stronger. As he reached a second floor staircase, Tom Riddle looked up at him emotionlessly. The boy tracked his movements as he continued to traverse the staircase as quickly as he could.

"Professor, you're wanted in the infirmary." Tom finally said, moving to the side of the stairs so that the professor wouldn't barrel over him.

Dumbledore didn't stop to speak and didn't have to be told that it was the infirmary that he was needed in. For some inexplicable reason, he could feel where the source of mental overflow was coming from.

_Anguish, as she watched those around her dying and falling to their opponents. Fred..._

As soon as he reached the corridor to the infirmary he could barely split the images and feelings picked up with his Legilimency from his own sight and feelings. The things he saw chilled him to his bones. It was so dark.

Everywhere there was just death and destruction and devastation.

He would need the healer to put a block in whoever's mind it was before he could even begin to work out a solution to help them.

_Stone walls tearing themselves apart, vacant portraits being eaten by fire, gaping holes gouging into doorways..._

With an astounding bang that echoed throughout the room, Albus Dumbledore finally threw the infirmary doors open, immediately pinpointing the location of Hermione despite that he couldn't see her for the curtains around her bed. He moved towards her, calling the healer to his side.

Tom stalked in behind Dumbledore; a frown marring his features as he took in the desperate state of the old fool. He'd met Dumbledore about halfway to his office; the tottering old dolt was already practically running towards the infirmary so Tom had merely turned around and followed him back at his own leisurely pace after a few words. He wasn't exactly sure what all the fuss was about so he stood back and observed as the healer ripped open the curtains around the girl's bed and glanced at Dumbledore for direction.

"Her mind-"the fool wheezed as he began to catch his breath "-can you put a temporary block in it?"

The healer gave no other response except to move his hands to the temples of the girls head and close his eyes in concentration. Curiosity urged Tom to move in closer so he could fully see what was happening. He'd heard of healers being able to temporarily block things like memories or sub-conscious reactions from the minds of their patients using a combination of old Chinese magic with chi points and the knowledge of which parts of the brain functioned for what. He'd never seen it in practice though. It was an experience that he wanted to see.

As Tom finally came close enough to watch what the healer was doing in detail, Dumbledore turned his head slightly to address him.

"My dear boy-" he said in what Tom interpreted as a patronising tone of voice "- don't you think that you should go and wait outside of the infirmary? After all, it is not very polite of you to watch as this poor girl tries to recover from her illness."

Illness? Tom was damn well sure that it was not _illness _that was causing the girl to curl up in what looked like agony. Nevertheless, he turned away briskly and walked out of the doors of the infirmary, closing them with carefully controlled movements and silently seething despite that he knew it wasn't very logical for him to be so angry.

Pretending to be the obedient student around Dumbledore usually annoyed him slightly but never to this degree of anger. He supposed it was because the old man had quite obviously lied to his face without even trying to cover up the fact that he was lying, it was something which Tom despised. In his opinion, either people should out-right tell the truth or at least put a presentable effort into lying. A dark smile curved up the corners of his mouth. Generally, it was the truth that people told to him.

As he made his way towards the Slytherin common room to see if he could find Abraxas, Tom mulled over everything that had just happened. None of it was very logical.

For starters, the circumstances were odd: who would get themselves stuck on the top of a high tower with no means to get back down again? And how and _why _would the girl have gone to the roof of that tower to start with? She'd also reacted and spoken in a way that Tom perceived as unusual. He almost felt like smirking as he reflected on the horrified expression of her face when she'd found him on the roof with her instead of someone else being there to rescue her. It was definitely not the sickeningly happy reaction which –Tom knew- was the general reaction that the female populace seemed to have around him.

There had also been the peculiar line of questions. Any normal person would have first thought to ask him _how _he'd rescued them instead of _why. _Unless, of course, that person had a reason to doubt his motivation for rescuing them. And those injuries... Unless the girl had been at the battlefront of a fight between Grindlewald himself and some opposing forces then Tom could see no other reason as to why she would have recieved so many injuries from dark magic. He'd even detected hints of the Cruciatus curse when he'd examined her before the healer got to them.

Tom let his head drop down and watched the worn grey stone pass beneath his feet as he carried on walking; instinctively knowing which direction to go in to get to the Slytherin common room. Why would she have a reason for doubting his acts of kindness in the first place? As far as Tom was aware, they had never even met before. He supposed it could be a coincidence that she was a naturally suspicious person but he had never believed in coincidence before and he wasn't about to start to.

The empty corridors began to get darker and colder as Tom got closer to the common room, matching the expression on his face.

Dumbledore had also seemed to know an awful lot more about what was going on with the girl than what Tom himself knew. A muscle in Tom's jaw jumped in annoyance. He hated being bested by the head of Gryffindor.

And his name! That small, insignificant-looking girl had shouted "Riddle" when she called for him to stop in the infirmary, although Tom didn't ever tell her his last name when he introduced himself to her. Either his reputation preceded him or the girl had far too much knowledge than Tom was comfortable with having a stranger know.

She was a puzzle. The first one to ever leave him with more questions than answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N:_**_ Hi! I'm officially giving you all an IOU for a couple of chapters (for anyone who isn't sure, it means that I owe you some more posted chapters) because my laptop is broken so I've had to retype everything using the paper drafts which (luckily) I saved. This means that updates might not be as often as I'd hoped but I'm trying to get everything sorted by borrowing a friend's laptop and using my libraries computers. I'm super sorry that you're only getting one chapter for now but (unfortunately) it's not something that I could have prevented._

_On another note, I have some questions that I'm going to post at the bottom of this chapter; I'd appreciate answers if anyone knows them because they may make Fracture a better story and they'll satisfy my curiosity :P Replies to reviews are at the bottom and I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though there's practically no Tom in it :3_

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**Chapter 3**

Hermione convulsed and bit down on her tongue until blood was drawn. Magic raged through her body; carving out a war path insider her that shouldn't have been there.

It had started with the deceptively soothing blue magic, although she _knew _that she shouldn't know the magic was blue in colour; considering that her eyelids were firmly pressed closed over her eyes. The blue magic had called to her, sang her into a darkness in her mind that tugged her towards unconsciousness. It was peaceful but it was also _wrong. _It wasn't her own magic and although it seemed nice, it was far too familiar to a Siren from Greek mythology that lured sailors to their deaths.

She'd almost lost herself, let the magic take away her consciousness and the memories that defined her being. She was fading away. The blue magic flowed through her every limb; relaxing her muscles and whispering that it was okay to forget all the bad things.

And then the Elder magic had flared to life.

The fire that came with the Elder magic shot through Hermione's body like a bullet that wouldn't pass out through the other side of her, destroying and smoldering and _consuming _the blue magic...

At least, she thought it was the Elder magic. Familiarity told her that the magic belonged to her but logic said it certainly wasn't her _own _magic; she didn't have enough control over it for it to be hers.

So the new magic seemed to be reacting to her subconscious needs –in this case it was protecting her from whatever the blue magic was doing- but it also felt like an inferno, just like that of the Elder magic which had exploded to life when she snapped the Elder wand in half. The reasonable conclusion that Hermione drew was that she was either extremely delusional or it actually was the Elder magic that snatched her out of the darkness the blue magic had dragged her into.

It was impossible, and yet she couldn't deny that it seemed to be the only explanation.

Either way, Hermione was exhausted and sure that she would have collapsed by now if the pain of the two different types of magic eating each other in her body hadn't been making her muscles contract unwillingly.

Something brushed past Hermione's face before pressing her shoulders back down onto the infirmary bed she laid in, stopping her from convulsing. Sounds of crashing and shattering rang in her ears and throughout the room but Hermione was blind and deaf to it all as she focused on what was happening _in_side her.

The battle between both types of magic increased and with it so did the pain until Hermione felt like she was burning from the inside out. She'd had enough.

But then it stopped.

The blue magic was pulling away and the Elder magic was calming down, now more like a pleasant warmth that erased the aches and pain of her injuries instead of the blaze that it had previously been. A content smile slipped past her lips as she languidly opened her eyes and regulated her breathing.

Her immediate world was eclipsed by an in-depth image of Albus Dumbledore's own twinkling blue eyes.

"_Honestly-"_she chided before she could stop herself "-do you people have absolutely no sense of personal space? When I open my eyes after writhing in pain for awhile I don't particularly enjoy being greeted by people looming over me far too close for personal comfort, and it's becoming alarmingly frequent! First the healer and now you, professor Dumbledore; I would've thought better of _you._"

Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth to stop her torrent of words whilst Dumbledore stood up straight and rocked back on his heels.

"Well Miss Granger, I can see that you have made a full recovery." Dumbledore beamed at her, the twinkle in his eyes somehow increasing in twinkliness. "I'm sorry to say however that you may have to excuse the healer; you seem to have –uh- drained his magic quite considerably. I believe that a good rest and a cup of tea is in order for him... perhaps a couple of lemon drops would help too."

She stared at professor Dumbledore disbelievingly as he nodded a dismissal at the healer, who walked out quite a bit paler than when he'd walked in.

"Drained his _magic !?_" She watched the healer leave and then took a quick glance around at her surroundings. She was in the same bed in the same part of the same infirmary that she'd been in when she'd spoken to Riddle, only now it was a lot more dishevelled than it had been before memories of the final fight had invaded her mind. Hermione's eyes snapped back up to Dumbledore as everything he said sank in "you called me Granger"

"Ah, yes. During your ordeal your memories were... _leaking – _I believe is the best term. And I happened to pick up on a few of them, unintentionally of course."

Weariness crossed Hermione's face. Dumbledore had always seemed so omniscient during her time, she supposed she now knew why he knew so much. He'd carried around memories of the final battle for all those years. _Her_ memories of what was yet to come. She couldn't even begin to imagine the consequences.

"Bad things happen to those who meddle with time." She mumbled, almost to herself.

"Indeed they do, which is why I have no intention of keeping these new memories."

A sharp look was directed at Dumbledore, who smiled politely back.

"We are going to go to my office -now that you seem fully recovered- and I am going to write letters to myself. With your help I will date them with the relevant time in the future that they correlate to and bottle the memories to be viewed in the future via pensive. I will, of course, also help you gain the necessary paperwork to enroll here at Hogwarts and then I'm hoping that you will obliviate all knowledge of our correspondence from my mind." This explanation was given with the same polite smile from earlier, with no change in expression other than a darkening in his eyes that hinted at a deep sadness.

"You came up with that plan rather quickly, professor." Hermione stated as she sat up too quickly and slid off the infirmary bed with a dizzying sensation. Broken glass crunched under her shoes. When Hermione looked at the floor around the bed she found that there were broken bottles and suspicious looking substances spilt on the ground. That explained the crashing and shattering sounds from earlier.

Dumbledore followed her line of sight for a moment before speaking up in reply.

"I am somewhat of a genius, my dear girl."

Hermione kept her suspicion to herself as she regarded the man who knew that Harry would die. He was a genius, but he still should have exhibited some kind of shock or mistrust that would have been normal for someone to express when encountered with the situation they were now in. Something just didn't feel right.

-.-.-.-.-

It was darker than she expected when Hermione entered the corridor. Only a couple of rays of fading sunlight broke their way through the window panes to light up the stone floor and a few pale stars could be seen if you squinted your eyes carefully. The corridors were empty with only the sound of their footsteps and the odd _swish swish _of Dumbledore's robes breaking the silence.

Even the portraits were snoring softly.

Hermione loved it. She often sought out the library to keep hold of this kind of hushed peacefulness and although she was reluctant to break it, she still had to ask the questions that were burning in her throat.

"Will the healer be ok, Professor?" She'd never seen or heard of someone draining another's magic before so she wasn't entirely sure of the consequences of it.

"He will be with a good night's rest; don't worry. The draining of magic is a mostly forgotten practice, only used by powerful wizards or witches of the past and even then it wasn't used frequently. I haven't heard of it happening in a couple of hundred of years and even the Ministry were reluctant to experiment with it in the past because it can result in both the initiators and the victims death quite easily, or worse."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, firmly studying the grey stone that passed beneath her feet as she walked. "...It didn't feel like normal magic, sir. It was- well it felt sort of...ancient." It sounded stupid when she said it out loud but it was the best way that she could explain it.

Dumbledore chuckled. "It should do-"he reassured. "- it's an extremely old form of magic and often isn't done consciously, think of it as more like a subconscious reaction. The closest you can get to comparing it to other forms of magic manifestation is wandless magic but without any directing command."

"How do you know all this if it's a forgotten practice?" With this question, Hermione raised her gaze to stare at Dumbledore; she knew from experience that an answer was more likely to be given if you stared at the person in question. It used to always work on her parents before they'd clued onto what she was doing.

Dumbledore was quite for a moment, contemplating. It gave Hermione time to think when she didn't want to think at all.

Her parents... They weren't even born yet. A lump formed and blocked Hermione's throat. Yes, she had obliviated any trace of herself that they could possibly remember but she'd always thought that she could go back and see them after...everything.

If she couldn't get back to her own time, would she ever see her family again? Would she ever find out if the Order triumphed over Voldemort? A feeling of loss settled in her stomach like an unmovable marble stone as Hermione contemplated the chance that she may never be able to get away from this time period. She would never be able to live with a clear conscience again if she was forced to watch Tom Riddle grow up to become _that._

The unfairness of the situation suddenly struck Hermione, knocking the breath out of her. Not only had she been unwillingly thrown back in time to a period where practically everyone she was close to wasn't even _born_ yet, she would also have to sit back and watch as one of the Darkest wizards Britain had ever known would rise to power. And she couldn't so anything about it in case she changed time and somehow brought about something worse than Voldemort! Stomping down on the urge to scream in anger at how unjust this situation was, she reigned in her temper and carried on walking.

None of it mattered anymore, it had already happened to her so she couldn't change it unless she found a way _out. _A determination far more powerful than any she had ever felt before blazed in her chest. She would find a way back to her own time. If she couldn't then she would just have to make the best of a bad situation. Besides, she already knew that there were hundreds of books on time travel in the Hogwarts library, surely there would be one that provided her with a solution.

Hermione had almost forgotten about the question that she'd asked Dumbledore so it made her jump slightly when he spoke up in a reply. "It's a forgotten practice because there has only ever been one record of how to do it in one book which only allows those that are considered worthy to read it." Dumbledore smiled impishly which nearly made Hermione jump in surprise again. "I happened to –ah- commandeer the only copy of the book and I've kept it safe ever since." with her interest peaked, Hermione wondered if he would ever let her borrow it at some point.

"I think it would be best if I allowed you the use of it for a short time though," Dumbledore continued as if he'd read her mind. "I'm sure it would allow you to read it." He also had a foreboding feeling of surety that the young witch would one day need the knowledge contained within the pages of that book.

When they finally reached the wooden door to Dumbledore's office, he opened it and politely waited for Hermione to go in first. It was a mistake. As soon as Hermione caught a glimpse of the room inside she froze in her tracks, gaping. Dumbledore had to struggle to shuffle her aside so he could also step through the doorway.

It was amazing.

Hermione had been to the headmasters' office whilst Dumbledore was in charge and although that had been impressive, it also contained the boring elements of previous headmasters. Whereas _this _room was pure Dumbledore. It was something else entirely. The walls were all enchanted, the one opposite to her showed the green scenery of the Hogwarts grounds past its bricks and the other three all showed a clear night sky, stars burning and twinkling. A giant model of the solar system composed of various different metals (some of which Hermione had never even seen before) hovered just below the roof; every planet emitted a variation of a whirring sound as it spun, each part seemingly unconnected to the others and encased in a ring of gold that shimmered as it spun the opposite way to the planets and moons.

And the _books!_

Merlin help her, Hermione could have stayed for days on end just _looking_ at them. She strode across the room to the wall on the left that was covered in shelves of books. An intent light that hadn't been there before lit up her brown eyes as she ran a finger along the spines of some of the books; barely touching them because some of the books looked so old that they'd crumble at the slightest poke.

'_Daring Dealings with Dragons' _Hermione guessed that the author of that book either wasn't the person who had tried to deal with the dragons or they were severely injured and had a very short life span due to stupidity_. 'A Study into the Possibility of Reversing the Actual and Metaphysical Effects of Natural Death, with Particular Regard to the Reintegration of Essence and Matter' (_she would have to borrow that_), 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. _Hermione stopped, stared.

Was this the same book that Dumbledore had left her after he had died? She wanted to pull it off the shelf and tear through its pages to find the deathly hallows symbol. And yet she didn't dare to. How could she be sure that she wasn't changing time just by _being_ in Dumbledore's office? Never mind looking through a book that she would encounter after Dumbledore died. A breath that she didn't know she was holding hissed out between her teeth.

Forcing herself away from the wall of books, Hermione stood by the desk in the middle of the room as Dumbledore took out some papers from a panel in the bottom of one of the desks draws. He peered up at her through his half-moon spectacles.

"Down to business then I presume, Miss Granger? Or Miss Gritt, I suppose."

Hermione nodded in confirmation, refusing to allow her eyes to keep skipping to '_The Tales of Beedle the Bard'._

-.-.-.-.-

Headmaster Dippet shuffled the papers on his desk –somehow making the mess look even more chaotic- but didn't pay them any close attention. He stared at the peculiar girl in front of him instead with pale, watery eyes.

"The injuries that you arrived at Hogwarts with, that was how you gained them?" His voice was just as watery as his eyes, betraying the strength that his posture and expression hinted at.

Hermione bowed her head in what she hoped appeared to be a saddened gesture. "Yes." She whispered, just loud enough for him to pick up on. It was around the seventh time that he'd asked her that question, only with a little bit of tweaking in the phrasing to make it seem as if he hadn't asked it before. If he asked again though, she would snap and lecture him.

Professor Dumbledore stood to the right of Headmaster Dippet's large mahogany desk, regarding Hermione with a slightly puzzled look. He knew that the paperwork for the girls transfer was forged and charmed to make the reader only give it a brief glance before they suddenly found something more important to think about. He also knew that he himself had forged and charmed it, but he couldn't quite recall why or when he had done it. She didn't look at him either, like they were partners in a crime that they were in the midst of pulling off. He tried to examine the paperwork for her transfer to Hogwarts again, only to find that he was suddenly enraptured by the remarkably dull walls of headmaster Dippet's room.

"Right-" Dippet said a tad too cheerfully "- you have an outstanding academic record Miss Gritt, our Head Boy will have a rival in you this year. I'd be proud to allow you to be a student here at Hogwarts and I'm sure you will settle in nicely. Now, onto the small matter of supplies; considering the situation that you are in, then I think it more than fair for you to be given a standard allowance of galleons that's usually given to first years. You can go down to Diagon Alley tomorrow with our head boy; I've been told that you've already met Mr Riddle so I'm sure you'll both get on swimmingly." Hermione opened her mouth to protest at Dippet's terrible logic, outraged that he was trying to shove her off to be Riddles responsibility but he continued on; oblivious to her inner turmoil at the prospect of shopping with the Dark Lord.

"We will sort you into a house tomorrow afternoon which means you'll have to get back from gathering supplies by lunch and in the mean time you can stay in one of the spare teachers rooms that we have, Dumbledore will show you where it is, won't you my fellow?" Dippet didn't wait for an answer before clapping his hands together and rising from his seat. Hermione took this as her dismissal and also got up from her chair to walk to the door. "Oh, Miss Gritt?" She turned her head to face the direction of the headmaster, trying not to glare too venomously. "I'm very sorry for what happened to your parents." The door slammed shut between herself and Dippet.

"Terribly quiet that one, isn't she?" he asked Dumbledore who smiled in response before moving to follow Hermione.

They walked together silently and Hermione felt much more uncomfortable than she had been before. Neither Hermione nor Dumbledore broke the silence that weighed down heavily on both their minds as she followed slightly behind Dumbledore (because this time she actually didn't have a clue whereabouts in the castle they were going) and contemplated what to say.

Professor Dumbledore gestured to the door when they'd reached their destination and Hermione opened it to reveal a remarkably unremarkable room. Stopping in the doorway, she made up her mind and decided to barrel through a brief explanation so that she didn't gain the professors mistrust.

"Professor, there's a letter in the false bottom of the third draw on the left of your desk. You should read it. I'm sure it will be enlightening as to the recent... circumstances." With that said, she took her first step into the room and locked the door with her wand. Barely making it to the small bed next to the far wall, Hermione collapsed onto it and allowed sleep to embrace her.

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**_Korel: _**_THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEW!I'm glad you like Fracture and that it seems to drive you to speaking French! I can't write/read any French but I can speak and understand a little bit of it and thank you for also putting a translation in the review too; I understood J'adore, Le, FANTASTIQUE and (obviously) the word Fanfiction but that was about it :3 Anyway, thanks for the review again, it really made me smile!_

**_Avalon Kore:_**_ Once again your review has left me flabbergasted (if that's actually a word) and with a massive grin on my face :D like that. Don't worry, Tom will gain his revenge on Hermione for being so rude to him, he'll just do it in a really sneaky way :) Don't take this in the wrong way but I'm sort of glad the last chapter almost brought you to tears; it means that I'm writing well enough to evoke emotions (which is good as it makes the story a better read then) and I think all parents use the mind reading trick on their kids, my mum certainly did with me :) Thank you for your review, I absolutely loved it :D _

**_So here are the questions I mentioned earlier: _**_does anyone actually know how old Hermione's parents are? I mentioned that they weren't born yet in 1945 which is kind of presumptuous 'cause I don't really know when they were born at all, I just kind of guessed that they weren't that old even though it's entirely possible that they are :/ Also, can anyone think of a name for the book that Dumbledore gets the 'foreboding' feeling about and says Hermione should borrow? I tried to think of one for ages but still drew up a blank;I can't really tell you what the book's about either (which would help you come up with a name) because that would be a spoiler so it may be difficult. Right, sorry for bugging you all :P I'll get to typing up the next chapters now :)Thanks for reading. _


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